Dead Hand
by annat08
Summary: Post TLJ. The Resistance is hiding in a new outpost trying to regroup. Commanders Dameron and Lintra are sent to intercept a possible space-born threat and a mystery unfolds. Mashing up two narratives for the hell of it. Marked M for language, violence, etc. (Poe Dameron/Tallissan Lintra).
1. Chapter 1

**Part 1**

Tallissan Lintra reclines against the headboard of her bed in the berth that runs along the corridor she shares with other members of the Blue Squadron. She is coasting through frivolous news about celebrities and gossip about politicians. It is the kind of thing she should be embarrassed to admit she follows but fuck all. She regularly risked herself for the Resistance on missions with limited chance of success. If she wants to use her few hours of downtime to hear about the romantic entanglements of a famous performer, she did it.

She likes reading these things even if, as Poe Dameron sometimes commented, it would rot her brain. There was little chance she would make it to old age, so she takes her enjoyments where she can.

Her mental vacation is cut short. An alarm erupts and on reflex she is up and moving to the door. She is jogging towards the hangar while adjusting the COM over her ear so she can hear the report and organizer her orders. She barks to her R9 astromech to prepare the ship and warm up the engines. Then the words were broken into as the mission information was passed to her.

She could wait until her pilots are situated in their cockpits, but instead she gestures, and they huddle at the base of the small ladder that gives her access to her cockpit. She is two rungs upwards and pivots so she can face them. They are used to her employing this kind of situational mission brief. They gather fast and give her attention.

Seeing her taking this position, Commander Dameron motions his squad to join the informal briefing. They pause from their headlong rush to their ships and cast their eyes up towards her.

"A large vessel has come out of hyperspace and is moving this way. Its markings and structure are a freighter class, but it is not responding to any hails. The intentions are unknown, and we need to go encourage them to be more forthcoming or address whatever malfunction is debilitating them. I want Blue 1-4 in forward formation and Blue 5-8 to take secondary place and cover. Keep your eyes open, but in case these are dumb haulers with broken coms…don't go mashing buttons until I give the order."

Poe isn't so short that he disappears in a crowd. He's moved to a place beside and below her. He signals his team to follow on her brief command. "What she said. Black 1-4 in forward position on my wing and 5-8 in holding pattern." Poe gives her a nod as he moves towards his craft.

Tallie models her leadership on her mentor Sha Torsis'. The old commander had a penchant for low key. The Cwellaran was a logistics officer prior to most of the rebel forces being annihilated. The species had head features with eyes, but the size of the ocular organs was huge and like dark mirrors on a wedge-shaped head. They had legs with long segments and powerful joints. On flat lands they were capable of fast speeds and high leaps. Their mouths were beakish and made the point of the head wedge. The native places for their species were outer core area, but they'd been space-going for generations and well insinuated in port and trade stations.

Sha Torsis' position in the ship's engine room meant she was one of very few leaders to survive. A burden and a blessing that she could try to preserve the wisdom of those contemporaries lost so suddenly and the need to move up. She did not like to raise his voice or ever sound unready. It was advice Tallie received from her old wing commander, too, when she took over for him. The words have served her well. She sends her squad into action with the expectation they can handle what is to come, no matter what.

The X-Wing fighter craft are arrayed on the landing field. They are dwarfed by the other shuttles and carriers, but their designs are pointier and sleeker. They are like birds that display their best assets for all to see. They do not offer comfort for their passengers but there is something exhilarating about flying them.

Poe is climbing into his black wing that is set next to hers. His team are mostly in their ships and he nod at her with a confident grin as he speaks into his small microphone. He loves taking the controls. He swivels to instruct BB8.

Tallie sees that R9 is secured in the back hold and his chirping and lights show the bot is doing as directed. She hasn't had use of him for very long. He hasn't developed the kind of rapport that a long-term droid assigned can exhibit. She won him as a concession after bitterly complaining that the constant rotation of droids to pilots caused operational delays in the pitch of firefights.

The noise in the bay has roared as ships cycle into their launch preparations. Data is flickering onto her screen with coordinates. She flips the switch that seals the canopy, Poe knocks on his as a gesture ahead of his jaunty salute. His wing is about to lift off. He is grinning. Probably the same way she is. He can't wait to get up there. She gives him a reply and twists to get visual assessment of if her team have all situated in their cockpits. She needs to give them space to clear the area. She does her preflight check by reflex. Then each of them calls in ready to her as the Black Squadron peels outward and upward.

Two squads are a robust response. She sees why once she gets to space. The hauler is a hulk of machinery. The kind of outsized behemoth. As her wing takes position, she goes to forward edge of the forward point. She opens the channel so she can take in Poe's early appraisal.

"It's ahead of us. No response to hails. No activities. The small maintenance side bay is open. Debris is trailing out. It's lost air seal integrity in the bay at least. We'll make a pass from stem to tail while Blue Squad takes up intercept position. Copy Blue?"

"Copy Black Squad," she answers and finds the placement he's indicated while the other squad does an uneventful swoop from stem to stern and then back.

She hears a toggle and knows he's swapped to a private communication channel. "What do you think?"

Tallie has been sharply focused on the hauler towards the places that might show early indication of a response. They are all still.

"I'll fire across the bow and see if that gets us any kind of answer."

She waits three beats and then sends out a shot.

"Either the captain has steel nerves, or no one can answer. What now?" There is another click and he's back to broadcast mode.

"Command, I propose we send in a search team. Myself, Corsu, Bane and Lintra. Remaining Blue Squad heads back to base and remains standby. The rest of Black Squad holds space-side position."

The four people named are evenly picked from both the squads. He's been practicing being more magnanimous since Crait. He makes concerted efforts to offer at least the illusion of incorporating others in decisions. Today is his usual style. He gives them the option to accept his mission direction.

Poe involves both their squads so that he doesn't force her team to supporting cast. It is an improvement from previous practice. She's noticed the change. Working beside him, she's never tried to copy his style, but she admires the way his talents inspire. To fly with his wing is prestige mark. There was a time she wanted that, but now she has her own command and she won't regret receiving that honor and she works to get the best performances from her team.

Command stamps their approval to his option, and she relays her expectations to her team while he sorts his. Then the four pilots break away and reform.

"Follow me," he directs. "Peel off at any signs of trouble and notify base."

Corsu dubiously asks? "Can't we just frag it?"

"That would be a lot of debris in the atmosphere if we blow it apart. Changing the course serves us better."

Corsu isn't appeased.

"Why do you think there is no answer?"

Bane chimes in on the line. "Could have been raided by pirates, lost critical functions and been abandoned. It could just be coincidence it is going to fall on top of our outpost."

"Save the speculation until we know more," Poe barks. "Scan for any kind of electrical signature or com." If Bane and Corsu hadn't had the exchange, Tallie would have expected Poe to vocalize the same items. She wondered, too, but having no answers refused to guess.

Tallie orders R9 to monitor so that she can use her eyes. She trusts those more than readouts. It is a very large ship and the closer she moves the less she can take in.

"It's bigger than I expected. Wish we'd gotten the word while it was further out. Ready to head in?"

He's back on a private channel to her. He likes to chatter but he knows that if he talked so much to the larger squad it would sound inane. Tallie lets him disperse the nerves by talking in her ear while they are on mission. It lets him seem composed and directed to his team. Few know his nervous tick the way she does.

"Let's head in," she answers, and sees his hand knock the canopy glass.

They position to take their ships in through the unsealed bay. BB8 has confirmed there are no shields. Once they land, they will either suit up walk into the unsealed landing bay or wait for the system to be re-initiated. She is planning ten steps even as she is carefully keeping her position off Poe's wing while they cross inside the superstructure of the hauler.

The bay they come inside of looks inert. Normal, but fixed in stillness. No droids, no signs of life, minimal signs of power. She sets down softly and swivels to take into account as many angles as possible. Then she talks to Poe on the private channel.

"We should send a droid ahead to scout."

"What if there is danger?"

"It could give us crucial time to know what we're facing."

Tallie knows he is thinking she means BB8 and he is possessed of an uncommon fondness for the rolling construct.

"R9 can make the assessment and tell us if the other areas of the ship are unsealed or need pressurization. We can have him reset the bay parameters if there is a blown series of fuses."

By volunteering her droid, she has relieved him of concern for his tiny shadow. He agrees and she triggers a release that deposits the droid from its perch behind her shoulder to the bay floor. She gives it instructions and it chirps and shuffles to the nearest gate door. They wait and the astromech provides readings back with little regard for context or relevance to its human masters.

It engages the bay systems at a docking panel and manages to restore the seal and pressure barrier. The bot does not know why the bay's systems were disabled.

At Tallie's instructions it makes its way to the command deck. Reporting readings as it goes in a bland chitter the mechanized devices use.

A beep signals her that R9 has something. "Captain is at the panel sleeping?" she frowns.

"Wake him up," she instructs.

A moment later the little machine indicates that he is sleeping soundly.

"I don't think he's sleeping," Poe mutters darkly then changes to open channels. "Full biocontainment Bane, Corsu and Tallie. Let's roll some ultraviolet along the hallways before we move through."

She drags out the suit and unbuckles her harness so she can undertake the pretzel maneuvers required to fully lock out contagion. She takes out the mask and makes sure the filters are in good order before sliding it in place and locking the seal. She orders R9 to start bathing the command deck with ultraviolet lights. The droid acknowledges and begins.

When Tallie comes down from her craft in the loose-fitting, blue hooded coveralls she takes stock as Poe motions her to turn so he can inspect the back of her suit. Once he taps her shoulder, she makes the same inspection check on his suit. Corsu and Bane copy their lead.

"Looks like two of you would fit in there," Poe gives her a small tight smile. "Good call on the droid inspection, first. Know of any outbreaks of the kind that could overwhelm a ship like this?"

"Nothing I've come across. Hope that isn't what this is. R9 tries, but he isn't very intuitive, yet. Limited experiences make him a slow on the uptake."

"Yeah. Noticed that in its 'sleeping' estimation."

"We've flown sorties in space. The little guy hasn't come in contact with dead bodies, yet."

"It's a he?" Poe raises an eyebrow, as if the conversational diversion is worthwhile right now.

Tallie just knocks her head to an angle in impatience. "Does it matter?"

"Curious why you think the dumb, little, roller skate is a guy."

She deadpans. "We've got a possible biohazard to go scout, now, _sir_."

"R9, any other bodies on the bridge?"

The robot indicates no. He follows up. "Did you see any other crew moving or asleep when you traversed the ship to the bridge?"

The negative response makes him sigh. "Ok. Let's go there and see if we can figure out if this is contagion or something else."

*Author's note. My prior stories were reylo. I wanted to try something with Poe. The story is gimmicky, but hope you enjoy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2**

Tallie palms a small sensor and tells Bane to keep a weapon at the ready. She wishes she could juggle both but the gloves she has to wear make the functioning of the sensor clumsy. Poe's choice is to hold the gun and let Corsu sweep for biologic information. He gestures their direction and she stretches her stride to keep pace with the men. She periodically provides that the readings remain negative. She could leave it and only chime in if alerts start popping, but it is better to be affirmative than let silence imply situation.

At each intersection they throw glances and consider. BB8 has rolled ahead and from its dome baths of blue light have swept the area from wall to wall, ceiling to floor. When they stop before the door to the bridge R9 tells them he is on his 28th sweep of the room treating all the surfaces he with ultraviolet radiation.

"Stop now, please," Tallie sighs. She should appreciate his stick-to-it-ivness, but it highlights his literal interpretations of her instructions.

Poe uses hand gestures to say which of them is sweeping which direction as they move into the room. He doesn't entirely trust the robot to be accurate. When the door cycles open, she moves smoothly beside him into the space completing her directional sweep before letting her concentration recalibrate to see the full room.

Then she sees the captain and almost pukes.

"Not sleeping," she manages to mutter and maybe it is Bane behind her who is choking back his own gag.

"Don't chuck in your suits. You'll hate life if your rebreather gets all jammed up with spew."

"Not helpful," she smacks the back of her hand against his shoulder.

"But true," he swallows hard and then gets his bearings.

The captain is tied to the control console with his arms spread eagle. His body is shirtless but covered in deep gouging stripes that are many inches long, somewhat evenly spaced. His throat is flayed open exposing bits of his larynx that is also ripped apart. His tongue has been dragged out of the new opening in the neck…and lolls limply against the gash. The blue-white clouded eyes are open, but not so solidly fixed into the sockets.

"Doesn't look like a contagion. Something less demur. Confirm." Poe gives up throttling back his nattering.

"Doesn't look like blaster fire. Kind of ragged," she assesses. "Like an animal." She runs a scan for anything that will trip the bio-contaminant spectrum. She reports the negative results.

"An animal would not take time to tie him to the command counsel to dead hand the ship."

Gingerly working around the corpse, Poe manages to make some changes in the ship heading controls. He arrests the forward momentum. Then he considers his options and sends the craft to a fresh set of coordinates. The new position is not far away, but a safe distance from their base.

"Call up logs. I want to know what was happening when the crew was last filing entries."

She moves to the terminal and knocks at it to bring up a daily record. It is bland ship facts and it stopped 32 hours ago. The ship was sub light but getting ready to move to hyper speed. The manifest indicated a compliment of 9, the location and the destination. She reported this to Poe.

Tallie is in no hurry to solve what should happen with the dead ship captain. Selfishly, she thinks asking will land her with the responsibility. Instead she restores secondary atmosphere and life support systems. They've been off for more time than would allow for pockets of the ship to handle isolation measures. Unless crew were in stasis, nothing humanoid was aboard the ice cold, airless vessel.

"Let's bring the rest of the squad aboard and do a full search of the space," she suggests.

"Not so fast," Poe shakes his head. Violence a regular part of their existence, but it doesn't look like what was done to this man. He isn't thrilled but he's studying the remains. "What's in the hold?"

"Machine parts," she answers looking at the last entries. "Coming from Esquinn."

"Let's get a visual on the parts to make sure this isn't a trap. This might have been pushed our way with purpose. BB8 go take a survey of the crew and engineering spaces and report back anything unusual. Check all the rooms, holds, closets. Let's see if there are any other crew or droids remaining. R9 go to the console over there and make a copy of all the recent ship records back to the last time it docked in a central port. Bane & Corsu go to the cargo hold and confirm the contents."

"Aye, sir." They respond crisply.

When they've left, he spins to Tallie.

"What do you notice?" Poe asks.

"Dead guy," she doesn't understand what he's getting at.

"Right. But look at how he's dead." He invites her to consider and she wishes he wouldn't. She locks down her nerves and mentally distances herself.

"He wasn't killed here," she is surprised to realize. "He was brought here and tied up after."

"Right," Poe nods. "What else?"

"Some of this happened after he was dead. The cuts on the back don't show swelling." She's no medical tech, but she has seen her share of dead. She knows a few things that can happen to a brutalized body before and after death.

"This is done to get our attention, to make a point. We need to figure out the message."

"It's a threat, Poe. An unsophisticated, head on a pike, message that someone wants us to be afraid."

To her astonishment, he scoffs. "I'm not intimidated. It might have been punishment to this crew and these men rather than…"

"Perhaps," she considers, "but it came out of light speed and is wending its way to our location. I take that as purposeful."

"Always on guard," he mentions as he throws her a look. "Probably wise. Pull the communications. I want to know what messages were sent and received since the last time they were in a port station."

/&&&&&&/

The cramped offices of the government official are without pomp or circumstance. Two figures have entered at the invitation of the official. His clothing belies his modest means. This man receives a nominal government allowance for his labors but reaps a much better income from graft he facilitates within the facilities. He hides many aspects of his comfortable life from his cohorts and superiors but is not immune to comfortable pleasures like a tailored suit of clothes. The two people who have entered have an appointment and he is looking forward to squeezing them in their current situation. The ship scheduled to bring their goods is incommunicado and likely requiring some form of rescue. He can arrange for this, at a price.

Lady Hr'ker extends rapturous forearms and in lightening reflexes snaps the balding head of the import-export official forward into her chest. The preapical ridges along her appendage make any backward jerk impossible.

The robed official drops his data pad and moans in fear. He looks frantically up at the statuesque female figure. The frozen expression that might be a smile is not warm or hospitable. Her body tenses ever so slightly there is an audible pop and the small man's neck slides backwards and his legs go limp. He sloughs to the floor.

"Problem managed," her mouth manufactures a facsimile of the speech pattern humanoids rely for communications.

"I see," Laddie's mouth purses in displeasure. "You are efficient as ever, Lady Hr'kr."

"I was finished with him anyway," she steps clear of him in what might appear as delicate, dancer-like moves if they had not been proceeded by the violence moments before.

"Most people do not kill when a bride would suffice."

"You're boring me, Laddie," she chills the words he would have used.

He takes her example and steps away from the corpse. Walking over to the bar he pours a drink. She is doing something fastidious with her bare arms that looks suspiciously like a cat cleaning itself.

"It's early morning, Laddie," she scolds.

"It's happy hour somewhere in the universe," he swipes his bottle blond bangs away from his eyes as he knocks back half the glass.

"Recover the freighter cargo. The shipping containers are well able to sustain uncontrolled reentry."

Laddie nods and slams back the rest of his glass and waves impatiently. "I'll take care of it."

"Then we'll talk about the other aspects of our partnership," she intones.


	3. Chapter 3

**Part 3**

"Did the cargo hold check out?"

Corsu and Bane have cycled open dozens of cartons and confirmed their innocuous contents. When they'd opened the first case they'd been jumpy. Bane nearly sprung out of his boots when a vacuum seal released with extra puff of energy. Nothing had come of the search.

All of the containers matched the manifest. They reported those results and described the few containers of rare earth at the end of the list.

"What the hell would make someone transfer dirt from one rock to another?" Bane wondered to Corsu.

"Some kind of agricultural work?" he conjectured. "Or maybe it has valuable minerals in its makeup."

"I don't know about those things," Bane admitted. "I've never had to grow food."

Poe is relieved that the cargo is not explosives. Now the commander can move to the next things on his list.

"While you're down there, can you check status on the escape pods? If any jettisoned recently," he is working his way through the steps that will help them reconstruct last activities. "I'm resetting the life support so we can get some atmosphere back in here. I want us to spend a little more time to make sure there is not some dangerous life form still aboard."

"I'm in counting all lifeboats docked and in their cradles. None missing."

"Damn," he frets. "Wish a couple had gone."

"Something could have docked with the ship and then departed," Tallie posits.

"There are two airlocks. Can you check the door pad readouts?"

That is a smart request. The bridge record is central and easier to access and read, but susceptible to obfuscation. He's doubtless checked the bridge. Asking her will reveal if there is a discrepancy. The mechanics on the doors are less sophisticated but also much harder to falsify. They don't give very much detail, but what they do record stays.

She wishes R9 was with her because he could communicate with the mechanism more easily. She takes out her data pad and a multi-tool that will let her spring a maintenance hatch below the door controls. Once she opens that small panel, she has two small jump wires that she wants to connect so her data pad can pull out the readings. The matter is clumsy with her gloves. She would dearly love to slip them off, but contamination is not ruled out and the life support needs time to complete the restoration. She has to stay suited. She puffs some frustration but gets the fine attachments connected.

The first door was last cycled 5 days ago. The second one was cycled 32 hours ago.

"How long since the last recorded port activity?" She asks Poe.

"5 standard days ago," he tells her. "Last port was Esquinn."

"The starboard docking entry was last used 5 days ago, so matches up to the Esquinn load out. The port side docking entry was cycled 32 hours ago."

"Peculiar. Nothing on the logs about ship-to-ship."

"I might not log a ship-to-ship if it was clandestine materials," she postulates. "What's the profile of this hulk?"

Poe gives a low whistle. "Come back up here. Let's talk this through and see how we summarize this to command."

The four of them get to the bridge but then Poe immediately sends Corsu and Bane to check the galley. His reasoning that the food stocks might have some very good sense of when the last meals were dispersed and if there were nine or more? Tallie grimaces as she looks at the corpse, again.

"You're supposed to find him grotesque. Whoever did this went out of their way to showcase barbarism."

"Score one for our unseen adversary. Did this person leave the ship?"

"I would," the commander contemporizes.

"Did he space the rest of the crew?"

That question has barely left her lips when the coms they share start bleating electronic squeaks and chirps. Poe knows the dialect of his BB8 unit, and understands the chattering flash.

"Found them," he mutters. "Stacked up in a maintenance closet in the forward hold." He issues a calming command to his robot as if emotions are overrunning its circuits. "All dead," he conveys to her in clipped tone. "Let's go look."

/&&&&&/

Laddie has contracted with two scavengers to go acquire the materials off the Demeter. The ship has not crashed. His impatient partner will not tolerate further delay. The four men in this rag-tag group do not know anything other than the task to bring back crates of rare earth from the hold of the ship. They are warned about the condition of the freighter as it was left by Lady Hr'kr.

He reflexively hires men with firepower. There is no reason to do as much, but those are his contacts. It's light work for them, but also the type of task they think is beneath their skills. He has to pay as though the weapons are needed.

Whey they depart he returns to his part of Lundun. The clean, efficient, bright and cheerful portion of the city. He thinks he will be able to relax, but as he enters his domicile, he is greeted by Lady Hr'kr's greeting. Her species of manticum have a ear grinding sound that might be a territorial warning, but in mixed species tradition has become a form of welcome to their presence. These are his rooms, but he finds she considers them an extension of her territory now.

"I sent men to go intercept the ship. I didn't think the planet forces would bother given it was going to hit the unpopulated table region. Terribly proactive of them."

"What of the replacement crew?"

"My team is prepared," he asserts

/&&&&&&/

Poe and Tallie set off from the command bridge to the place BB8 has directed them.

Tallie doesn't know the crew personally, but she regrets the loss someone out there in the wider world will feel when these people don't come home. As a combat pilot she has reconciled herself to the likelihood she will die at the controls of her ship. It almost happened a few months back when that torpedo detonated in the hangar. She falls into step with Poe and they make their way to where BB8 waits.

The little robot meets them at the nearest intersection and guides them to the place. She again admires his intuitive capacity. They approach and she's glad there has not been atmosphere. It means there was suspension from decomposition. Even so, the condition of the corpses show terrible mutilation. Limbs have been snapped. There are wounds similar to the slashes seen on the captain.

"Unpleasant endings," she dryly remarks.

"Force be with them," Poe mutters bleakly. "How many, BB8?"

The little droid answers and it is exactly the 8 remaining members. All accounted for. None left alive.

"What now?" Tallie asks darkly.

"Take a scan to make sure they died from physical trauma and are not harboring anything nasty that could hurt us." Poe swallows the gall back after providing his direction. "Rule out any kind of disease vector."

Wincing she sets the sensor and completes the scan. It is negative and she relays.

"Ok," he lets out a breath. "We need to take them out, lay them across the floor and make some observations."

"Of course we do," she is not happy for this step.

"If I call Bane and Corsu here to do it, they believe we wussed and harbor…"

"It's fine. We should do it," she should modulate better, but implying she isn't up to the task has her irritated. Partly because he's pushed the right button to secure her compliance.

She takes recordings, and then documents the state of the room before they begin the next step. Gingerly she positions herself and they grip the figure at the top of the pile of bodies and when he nods they both lift and she strains under the weight of the heavy individual. The two manage to extricate the first body and set it down so that he's laid out.

"I don't like this much. Let's line them up and then make further recordings. I want to be done with this." His tight mouth and tense jaw are signals that he's grim about this. No manic conversations are leeching into the space. This bothers him a lot, she thinks. Bother. Not the right word for the spiders-creeping-on-skin sensations she has as she sees the face of the dead man.

Eyes open. Fear evident on his death mask. Not the throat slit display that was made of the captain, but still a grisly death end. The mouth is open in a silent scream.

"Limp muscles. Been dead more than a few hours. Not nearly enough blood in this space to be where the killing happened."

"Yeah," his tight answer is all the normally loquacious Poe returns.

The crew is all male, but only mostly human. By dress and features she sees several different racial backgrounds. This is in keeping with a non-corporate vessel. They need more history. Both Tallie and Poe can sketch a basic story from what they've seen.

"Should have let you call Corsu and Bane," she is breathing a little harder by the time they are repositioning the 8th body. Her words make the corner of his mouth twitch upwards for a moment.

"These wounds look like a hand weapon or set of claws. Can you take measurements on the spacing and see if that backs up appearance that all of these are inflicted by the same device or hand, BB8?"

The droid goes from figure to figure taking scans and halfway through provides the update that they are. He further divulges the marks are product of claws by virtue of the deeper, more detailed analysis of the wound contours.

"If it was a single attacker, could they really have overwhelmed the whole crew and no one responded?"

"Depends," Tallie shrugs. I hate to think what it would have been like to have someone moving along the decks killing this way, hunting everyone down."

"Where do you supposed it happened?"

"Sir," Bane's voice cuts in on their coms. "You want to come to the mess hall." The tight phrase is not explicit but given everything else, they both have an idea.

"Be there directly," he tells the two. Then aside to her. "Mess might be apropos."

"Maybe." She won't mind leaving this room, but his faint attempt at humor falls flat.

The ship has gray industrial walks with awkward bracings that narrows the corridor at points. The door frames are several inches thick because the pocket recessed doors are designed to hold in the event the hull is compromised. It is a failsafe that portions of ship could be decompressed and with quick action pockets of space retained. It was graceless in design.

Tallie has steeled herself for when they enter the mess hall, but her best efforts feel inadequate. There are no bodies in this space, but the evidence of horrendously violent exchange is etched into the very beams and surfaces. There are broken bits of furnishings, destroyed components, and blood everywhere. Blood and what are probably other smears of human remains. She blinked hard at the scene and swallowed bile.

"Make a recording of this space BB8. Did you check this room previously?"

The small droid beeped a negative. He'd been working meticulously from the front of the ship and this mid-ship cabin hadn't been closed as he passed. The small window too high for his visual sensors when he passed.

Poe asks the two pilots to bag and box up their dead bodies so they can be stowed. The rot won't be far behind now that atmosphere is restored. He and Tallie will take care of the Captain on the bridge. Both men grimace and request to enlist their droids.

When they reenter the bridge, they both pause and consider how to unhook the dead hand and move him out of the command center. The prior work with the other dead crew could have softened the blow, but it didn't. Tallie was still queasy from touching and moving the captain. The set him on the floor and BB8 finds containment wrap and brings it to them so they can cocoon the body. Once it is encased, they shove it onto an anti-grav platform. Poe instructs the droid to take it to the hold and put it in cold storage.

"Good riddance," Tallie mutters as the door closes.

"Agreed." Poe slumps against the wall.

"I'm going to move us out to orbit the fourth moon. It's uninhabited. If we lose control and the ship gets pulled down by gravity, I'd rather have it crash in uninhabited land."

"It doesn't seem likely," Tallie is checking readouts. There is fuel. The machine is old, but with only the usual level of blinking red warnings. "It's space-worthy. What is its name?"

Poe reaches over and finds a display. "The Demeter," he answers her.

"We know the crew and captain are dead. What next?"

"Does this ship have business with the Resistance?"

Tallie gives him an impatient glare. "No ship would keep records that say delivering arms, munitions, and food to the Resistance."

Poe smiles. "It wouldn't but scan the records and see if the destinations look familiar. You've been protecting the heart of our operations for a while now and you can name our last ten bases and supporting base locations."

"I wouldn't make it a destination, just an intermediate part of a run."

"Then scan the records with that in mind."

Tallie goes through looking at all the travel recorded. She seeks familiar destinations, but as she is looking she sighs. "I don't think these are reliable records."

"Why?" Poe asks.

The same first officer is recorded as the person inputting records, but the records from the last 2 months show differences. The style of entry changed."

"Style change?" Poe comes and peers over her shoulder and notices what she is seeing. "Strange."

"When I sent you the information from the docking bay doors, they didn't match the logs?" Despite the question there is a guess by her phrasing.

"You are correct." She feels Poe's smile and doesn't look because he's invaded her space and facing him will make her push away. "You are smart, Commander."

"One of the reasons I was granted command," she rebuffs the comment as if it should be assumed.

"Machine parts and dirt in the hold?"

"Yep," she answers.

"Who is receiving these items?"

"The shipping contact named Liam Edge," she shrugs. "No idea if that detail is genuine. Should we find out?"

"We should," he moves back to restore reasonable distance. "I'm ordering the squad back to base. The action already happened, here. I want to take a few more readings/records. Then we should return and give our debrief to command."


End file.
